We' ll make a nice gang
by RattytheScourge
Summary: Klitch captured Mara, but what's next?


"Now I've given Ferahgo extra move in the game – I'm providing him with a hostage, Lord Urthstripe's own precious little Mara."

– "Klitch" in the novel Salamandastron by Brian Jacques

The darkness clustered around her, weighing on her mind and surrounding her like an enemy, like an inevitable disaster.  
Mara was breathing heavily, trying to loosen the ties. She felt a nasty iron taste of blood in her mouth. The blood was also creeping down the fur of her cheekbones, just below the temple.  
The badger craned her neck to look up – there was Klitch, standing right above her, and the torchlight made his beautiful blue eyes burn with sinister fire.  
Why hadn't she noticed that his eyes were…  
Yes, the eyes of vermin. The vermin. The enemy.  
Mara could never restrain herself and keep silent. She hadn't kept silent when Urthstripe forbade her the things she thought important. She couldn't keep silent now either.  
Resentment and pain exploded inside her – betrayed by a friend!  
She used to be so happy, so free, together with her new friends and so many adventures and endless roads lying ahead…  
And all of a sudden, a vermin horde emerging from behind a dune, and Goffa's shaft of the spear slamming in her temple…  
The badger bit her lip till the blood came, yet shouted out, trying to catch the glance of his serene blue eyes.  
"How could you, Klitch! I thought we were friends! I trusted you!"  
The weasel burst out laughing and shrugged.  
"You're a naïve fool, don't blame me for it."  
Mara said nothing – they were seemingly alone, other vermin stepped away to the fires, she was guarded by some rat, but he was also sitting in the distance. For some reason, Klitch was standing nearby, not willing to leave.  
"Your father made you do it, didn't he?", Mara asked quietly. She had seen another weasel, adult, with the same blue eyes as Klitch's. When she hadn't fully come to herself after the strike, he said she was a hostage now.  
Klitch winced at this question. He felt uneasy that this stupid badger thought his father gave him orders, as if he was some kind of puppet.  
"Of course not, badger. I did it because I am much smarter than Goffa, Migro or any other subordinate of my father. Someday, I will be the horde leader. Very soon."

He stopped short, wondering why he had to blab so much, and then cast a scrutinizing glance down at the tied badger.  
But she was not impressed with his plans.  
"Why do you keep calling me "badger"?" she asked off the mark. "You know my name. Are you afraid of calling me Mara because you are afraid of becoming attached to me?"  
"Shut up, badger! I'm not afraid of anything!" Klitch swung his paw to kick Mara, but kicked only the grass next to her.  
The young weasel caught his breath and spoke in a quieter tone.  
"I don't care. I mean, at all. I can call you Mara or a striped dog, it makes no difference to me."  
Mara couldn't help asking a horrible question that had been tormenting her ever since she had opened her eyes.  
"And what about Pikkle? Did you kill him?"  
This beautiful fairytale – Pikkle, Klitch, Goffa and her, all free and cheerful, going for adventures. There are no rules – only fun, joy and happiness. Now this phantom dream has turned into a nightmare.  
She is a hostage, Urth will have to surrender Salamandastron to save her life. And Pikkle? It is all her fault… She should not have taken him with her.  
"He is alive yet," the young weasel replied reluctantly. He blurted out this "yet" accidentally and became even angrier with himself. What is wrong with him? What?  
Mara suppressed a sigh of relief and lay in a comfortable position. The sky was covered with myriads of stars. Is this her last night?  
Klitch was right – she is a naïve fool. She had put in danger both herself and Pikkle. The badger was sure that wise Urth would not be tricked by the threats of Klitch's father. After all, they were not the only ones who lived in the mountain – there were also hares, the whole families of hares. To risk their lives relying on an unsteady promise to spare Mara's life?  
No, Urthstripe would not do it. And he would be right.  
Indeed, this is her last night… Or the last but one.  
All of a sudden, bitterness came to her soul, her eyes filled with tears, and she clenched her teeth not to burst out crying.  
She had always been unhappy in Salamandastron – its strict rules, severe warriors and total absence of freedom and independence had always made her feel caged. And, as fate would have it, just as soon as she had become free and happy – this betrayal happened. Betrayal by the one whom she had considered a friend.  
She recalled this short time she had known Klitch – his funny stories that he would tell her and Pikkle when he was seeing them off to Salamandastron, his laughter; indeed, he was the very friend she had dreamed of – cheerful, free and independent.  
But it was only a mask. Klitch is just a spy, totally controlled by his father, however he would deny it.  
"Look, Klitch," the badger called out the weasel.  
"What do you want, badg… Mara?"  
Rubbish! After all, he called Goffa and Migro by their names and still felt no attachment to them. But for some reason, having called the badger by her name, as if testing himself, he felt some strange feeling of confusion.  
"You called me naïve. You are right. I didn't expect the life to be so cruel. But, you know… If I could only turn back time… I would have escaped Salamandastron with Pikkle all the same – to meet with you. With my, as I thought, good friends. I… I was unhappy in Salamandastron. I didn't like it there. Gloomy mountain, strict rules, severe dwellers. I lacked freedom and joy. When I met you and you told me that we could just leave for adventures, march merrily with friends who would always support and understand… I believed you! You were the voice of my soul – you just spoke of what I had always dreamed of. And this little adventure that I had when I left Salamandastron following you, this feeling of happiness, for the first time in my life… This unalloyed, overwhelming delight… Just to re-experience this feeling, I would have run away once again, even if I'd known everything would end like this. I was happy. And you, Klitch? Are you?"  
The weasel was even a bit spellbound listening to Mara, so this question seemed even more unexpected.  
"Yes, of course I am happy, Mara," he responded quickly, but already feeling a twinge of unease.  
He even envied this badger, her naivety, her lack of experience, for she was so confiding and at the same time so happy because of such little things.  
Of course, he is happy. He has completed the task – quite brilliantly, to be honest. A lot of beasts are already on his side. Soon he will be able to hold his own against the old one, and perhaps the day when the horde will be led by another weasel is not so far off.  
Of course, he is happy.  
"Are you sure?", the badger asked again. "Sometimes it's hard to know whether you are happy or not. Before I met you, I thought I was quite happy in that mountain."  
"But you said you always felt caged," Klitch tried to evade the question.  
"Yes, you're right, but I thought it was only my caprice. Thought I was asking too much. And then Urthstripe gave me shelter and food. Are you sure you are really happy? The life that your father has assigned to you… is that what you really want?  
The weasel's blue unseeing eyes were staring at the flashes of a distant campfire. He could leave, he could make this striped dog shut up. But there was something disturbing his soul, and he did not move.  
Mara continued, stricken by a sudden insight:  
"I heard that if you want to tell a convincing lie, you yourself must believe in it a little. You spoke of the places where the young can do what they want, where you don't have to ask a permission to carry weapons or whatsoever. You spoke of it as if you had seen these places by yourself…"  
Klitch kept silent and then quietly sat down next to the tied badger. For some reason, he wanted to let it out. After all, she is going to die soon, and no one will ever know his innermost thoughts…  
"You're right, Mara, I am unhappy," the young weasel whispered. "I told you the things I would love to believe in if I were so naïve and confiding as you two. But I know well enough that it's impossible. There are no such places where the young can do whatever they want. There are no places where they can be free. And even if Goffa and I had just been travelling together, in the end the four of us, rather sooner than later, would have been killed or robbed anyway. You can only become free if you have power. But I'm miles from that."  
"It's a shame it can't happen, isn't it, Klitch?"  
"It is… Mara."  
As the two young creatures were sitting in silence and their reveries, the Ferahgo camp faded into deep slumbers, interrupted only by distant challenges of the sentries and the chirring of nocturnal insects…  
"We could make a nice gang," the badger suddenly giggled.  
"That's right!" the weasel's sharp teeth gleamed in the dark. "We would give them all a hard time!"  
"And why are you so sure we would have been killed or robbed, Klitch? That's kind of vexing to hear. After all, I'm a badger, I can have the Bloodwrath or something of the kind awaken in me. I am very strong. Pikkle is a hare, he can fight with his hind legs. And as for you, I think this sword you're wearing is not only a decoration. And I was also lucky enough to experience Goffa's skill of handling the spear. So, are you sure we would actually be so helpless?"  
"Well, I haven't really thought about it that way… About us together. The only thing I had to do is to bring you to Ferahgo."  
The young weasel paused to think. In his thoughts, he saw vivid pictures of him being a leader of their little squad, marching back to South-Western lands. He had scouted the area quite well and knew the places. But back then he had only been executing his father's orders, and now he would be free… With his friends.  
They would go chatting cheerfully, sometimes fighting small local gangs side by side. There was no such huge horde as Ferahgo's anywhere, so…  
Why is he thinking about it?  
Then they would sit by the campfire, baking potatoes in the embers and telling funny or scary stories.  
"We could make a nice gang," he whispered again.  
Klitch dropped his head. It's all useless. What's the point of fulfilling another order of his father? Even he takes his place someday, he, Klitch, will not be living the life he wants. And he wants to be young and careless, together with his friends.  
And if Mara and Pikkle die tomorrow, this dream will never come true. Ever.  
"So you say you're strong?" the weasel asked.  
"Yeah, quite strong. And Pikkle, too."  
"But he's gonna devour all our food."  
"No way, we'll keep it away from his wide mouth. Under my guard, for instance."  
A weasel's short sword flashed, but none of the sentries noticed anything. Klitch cut the badger's ties.  
She stirred carefully, stretching her cramped paws.  
"Goffa is guarding Pikkle, so it's going to be easy."  
She silently slipped after the weasel like a shadow, crouching low to the grass so that the sentries didn't see her. Klitch bundled his cloak so that it looked as if the tied badger was still in her place.  
"Let's head for the South lands, I know those places well. But we'll have to run day and night – my father will probably send the best trackers after us. Although, he must've sent the best after Thura and Dingeye already."  
Mara did not quite get the last phrase, but repeated the weasel's words with a smile on her muzzle:  
"We'll make a nice gang!"


End file.
